


Hold on to Sixteen

by Soll



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bi Blaine Anderson (discussed), Gen, M/M, McKinley AU, Season 3 AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 14,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29680650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soll/pseuds/Soll
Summary: Between crashing his dad's car and screwing his mother's boyfriend, Sebastian has managed to get himself sent back to Lima, Ohio- and in public school to boot.What's a boy to do to stay afloat if not fake-dating his former ex-cheerleader and now punk renegade soon to be step-sister?or: a dialogue heavy Sebastian-centric season 3 rewrite where nothing new really happens, except everything Sebastian's touches turns to whatever I want
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Sebastian Smythe, background canon couples - Relationship
Comments: 38
Kudos: 38





	1. 3x01 The Purple Piano Project

**Author's Note:**

> i have no idea how i got here. this was supposed to be a salty one shot, and is now just scenes straight out of the show i would have wanted to watch.

Sebastian still doesn't know exactly what he did to deserve to be sent in exhile to public school.

Sure, he crashed his dad's car into a wall, but he wasn't drunk when he did it.

And yes, he did get into a fight at school for, quote, stealing someone's man, unquote, but technically he hasn't done anything if not being too slow to run away.

He has also slept with his mom's new boyfriend, but he _was_ drunk when he did it. He was sober when he screwed his chemistry TA, but in his defense he barely looked like he needed to shave.

He's curious what exactly pushed his father over the edge. He'd bet money on the car. It wasn't that bad and they got it fixed a Monday later, but according to Austin she just hasn't been the same since that. Maybe it even was Sebastian's proposition to rename her Grizabella. He could see it being the proverbial last straw.

“Are you listening to me?”

Sebastian likes Quinn. She's sharp, she's quick, and she dated a forty year old business man for the better part of the summer. It makes Sebastian's scandalous affair with the twenty-something hot teacher seems like a respectable relationship.

“Absolutely not.”

Quinn will also probably murder him before the whole marriage sees the light of day, but he's never been able to resist tormenting people when he's bored.

“Fine. When your face will be washed down a toilet, don't say I didn't warn you.”

“Is this a threat?”

“You would know, had you been listening.” She says, and Sebastian would have heard her better if a loud kid with hideous hair and an even more hideous face wasn't shouting and crowding their personal space.

“And here- Quinn Fabray. Former captain of the Cheerios and on top of the food pyramid, her fall from the stars- ouch!”

Sebastian raises both his eyebrows when Quinn brings the guy down by his earlobe.

“You're going to stop this, and you're going to stop this now.”

“Release me!”

“Say you'll stop harassing me.”

“Okay, okay, I will!”

Sebastian doesn't take a step back when he staggers against his shoulder, but he makes sure the disgust is woven in his face.

“I would say to look where you're going, but I'm pretty sure moles are blind, aren't they?” He asks with malicious joy.

The idiot just shoves the microphone he's carrying in his face.

“And here we have Sebastian Smythe, Junior, from Paris. How is it like to go from being a small fish in Europe to dating the hottest most controversial American cheerleader?” Sebastian opens his mouth to answer but he doesn't really know where to begin. “Is the romance with the frenchman Sebastian Smythe going to be the start of Queen B redemption's arc? Will we see her at the top of the pyramid again?” The last question is screamed into oblivion as Quinn does so much as to move her ring finger.

Sebastian cocks his head to see the umpa lumpa and his cameraman run down the hallway. They crash into a six feet something bulky guy in a jersey.

“What just happened?”

“Jacob Ben Israel. McKinley's personal ugly Gossip Girl clone.”

“How did he know my name?”

“He knows a lot of things he shouldn't. He also makes up half of his content, so the good news is that every leak can be proven false. Even the ones which are true. Punch the locker if it doesn't open.”

It sounds barbaric, but it proves to be effective. Although maybe it would have been better to leave it closed, since it smells like axe body spray and dead rats.

“Why did you let him live?” He asks when they're halfway to AP Music Theory class, which Sebastian chose to round out his schedule just in case it was actually a secret sex society cover-up or something.

“You've heard him. I fell from grace. I'm currently a nobody. If dating the new hot guy in town will give me some spotlight, I'll let it happen.”

“And I keep my head out of the toilet as long as I manage to turn you back into America's sweetheart?”

“I might even rejoin the cheerios for your benefit, if I'll feel generous enough. But only if Coach Sylvester won't make me dye my hair back.”

“Oh, I would never ask for such a sacrifice. Should we kiss to make it official?”

Quinn gives him the finger and saunters away in her Avril Lavigne cosplay. Sebastian suddenly isn't that mad that his dad is getting remarried in four months.

.

AP Music History turns out not to be an exciting black market on anything in that lieu. It's just boring. They're going on a field trip to the Lima's interactive music hall exposition as soon as next week. He chats up the old hag who's teaching anyway: he likes to be the teacher's pet and he's gonna need all the favoritism he can get if he's going to skip every idiotic field trip in this course.

.

“You're joining Glee club.”

Quinn informs him a week into school. He's playing Fallout New Vegas and she's slaving over textbooks, as she does every breathing moment of her day. Her one way ticket out of this dumpsterfire of a town, she says. To each their hobbies.

“I don't think so. I'm enjoying the middle class status allegedly banging you is bringing me.”

“Make up a single sex anecdote, and I'm telling my mom you steal her underwear.”

“Ew.” He pauses the game and lounges on the couch. “What if she's into that?”

“Ew.” She replies. “It still doesn't change the outcome: a broken engagement and a broken relationship.”

“You're a bitch.”

“I'm aware. And I want you in Glee club.”

“Why?”

“Because I miss it, but I'm not willing to admit it, and if you join with me I can just say you begged me to go with you.”

“I've heard you set one of their pianos on fire.”

“Average Monday afternoon.”

“What do I gain out of this?”

“Let me see:” She tells in a monotone voice. “You're so into me that you're willing to join a bunch of singing cretins to bring me back from hell. Girls will think it's tragic and romantic.”

“And boys will think I'm pathetic for going so far for a fuck.”

“Either way they'll talk about you. Before status comes renown. Besides, you're giving them too much credit. A lot of them will relate with-” she makes airquotes with her fingers “having to go so far for a fuck.”

“Mh.” He muses. “I do like performing.”

“I know you do. My mother thinks it's so charming we'll have an actor in the family, she brings it up every dinner.”

“Speaking of dinner, I'm hungry.” He springs to his feet. “I'm gonna go fester dad.”

“So it's a done deal?”

“Anything for you, honey.”

“Fuck off.”

.

There's a new guy in AP Music Theory that Tuesday. He's short, he has ridiculous hair, he wears bright yellow chinos and he smiles at him when he hands him papers to sign for the next field trip. He also gets flustered in a cocky kind of way when Sebastian checks him out.


	2. 3x02 - I Am Unicorn

Glee Club's pros include: dancing, singing, getting to see a circus show without paying for a ticket.

Glee Club's cons include: having to dance and sing with people who would be better suited for office work, constant headaches caused from endless pointless complaining, Santana Lopez, and having to be decent to her because she's Quinn's friend (or so they say).

Glee Club's most definite pro _and_ con: hot AP Music Theory guy is also in the club.

Blaine Anderson's pros include: he's fucking hot. He has the kind of voice that makes you fall in love when you're drunk at 2AM. He's constantly annoyed by everything and rolls his eyes in a very sexy way, but has the kindest smile Sebastian has ever seen on anyone male over the age of six.

Blaine Anderson's cons include: he won't talk to him.

It drives Sebastian crazy. He's always unnervingly looking at the whiteboard, or at his girlfriend Glinda the witch of the East (whom by the way has got to stop squeaking high notes- just because he can reach them, doesn't mean it sounds good). He never turns to him, not even when he's arguing with Finn Hudson (whom by the way is so tragic at moving his body, it's a mystery how he doesn't spend entire football games rolling on the ground) and Sebastian is strategically sitting next to him.

He wonders if he should sit directly behind Blaine and kick the the back of his chair. Accidentally.

Quinn snaps his fingers in his face for the third time. He squats her hand away.

Being Quinn's boyfriend pros: he gets extra desserts at the cafeteria because the lunch lady thinks he's being such a good influence on Quinn, and every guy on the basketball team like he's a hero for taming the formal Head Cheerleader gone feral.

Being Quinn's boyfriend cons: Blaine won't get a hint.

.

“You're lucky people at this school think they filled their queer quota with Kurt and Chantal.” Quinn informs him as they drive to joint family dinner at the Fabrays'.

“Which one of the rats is Chantal again?”

“The one who's going to break your back in half if she thinks you're cheating on me. And she's suspicious.”

“You're a buzzkill. He's hot.”

“So was Puckerman before his mid-life crisis, and yet I've managed not to make anybody suspect I though so for months. Have some self control.”

He breathes on the passenger seat's window and scribbles profanities on it.

“When do you think you're getting your license?” She asks turning in the driveway of her house.

“When dad will forget I crashed Grizabella trying to parallel park.”

“That car's name is not Grizabella. Stop trying to make it happen.”

“Yes, mom.”

“Fuck you.”

“You're the one who's gonna have to fuck me if you keep making me look straight.”

She flat out snorts.

“As if you being straight is the reason why Blaine doesn't want to sleep with you.”

“Hey. I'm hot, smart, rich, and very willing. What's not to like?”

“We're home!” She shouts as they pass the house threshold. Sebastian is offended enough that he doesn't steal roasted potatoes from her plate at dinner, just in case she'll think it's playful.


	3. 3x03 - Asian F

“Why-” he says in a very loud whisper to Quinn. “Are they making them sing Fame at the callback for West Side Story?”

Obnoxious wheelchair kid Sebastian hasn't bothered to remember the name of coughs from somewhere above.

“Because we don't want to give Rachel home court advantage by having her sing I Feel Pretty.”

“Which is in the show you're producing. You just admitted Rachel is the best choice for this musical. How does any of this makes sense in your head? Please, tell me.”

“Leave it.” Quinn waves him off popping a bubblegum. She quit smoking and she needs something to bite that's not other people, she says. It's annoying and Sebastian is going to bite her, he said in the choir room once. Get a room, someone who might have been Puckerman hollered.

“Oh, great, your pet meerkat is another one of Rachel Berry's acolytes, go figure.” Santana snaps like it's personal.

“Maybe if you wanted to give someone else a chance to be the lead, you shouldn't have chosen West Side Story. What's the Spring Musical gonna be? Funny Girl? Wicked? Anything else Rachel Berry could sing in a coma?”

The silence is ghastly.

“That's not a thing.” Quinn says with another bubble.

“What's not a thing?”

“The spring musical.” Kurt says like he's just now discovered the concept.

Sebastian takes the longest breath he ever remembers taking. For the first time since his mother decided to willingly subside and hand him over to his dad, for the first time since he has passed the threshold of a public school that has piss stains on the walls (and not only on the outside of the building) he wishes somewhere between fucking his teacher and crashing Grizabella, he would have actually stopped to think about the consequences.

But when he defiantly looks around, in search of either an escape route or a blunt weapon, Blaine is looking at him from a row above. He's got an unnerving small smile on his lips, and his eyes are dark and locked on him and him alone. Sebastian wonders why he ever doubts himself.


	4. 3x04 - Pot O' Gold

Sebastian has no idea what a Warbler is, but if Finn Hudson is to be believed and they really think Blaine Anderson is a big deal, then they seem to have something nobody in this room has: good taste.

“It's cute.” He says to Quinn, once again loud enough that people will hear. “So big and bulky, and yet he's jealous of the new kid in the sandbox.”

Blaine's head makes the smallest turn in his direction. Sebastian can see half a smile.

God, he's hot.

So what if he smiles just a little bit too much when Blaine drags him off his chair in the middle of his number and puts his stupid straw hat on his head.

Dancing puts him in a good mood, that's all.

.

“Looks like you had fun today.” Quinn tells him behind her round black glasses. “Given your ego, I would have thought you would have agreed with Santana on the Anderberry show.”

“I don't have an ego,” he specifies trying to remember which notebook he uses to take History notes on, “I'm just good at self-evaluation. I'm a better dancer than anyone in that room, bar the dizty blonde and boy Chang. But as a singer, I'm right there with girl Chang and Cold Wheels: good, but not enough to complain that it _shouldn't_ be the Anderberry show.”

“And that has nothing to do with your crush on Blaine.”

“It's not a crush.” He says pointing at her with a notebook, “and it's not my fault that anyone performing next to him looks like a overgrown toddler. Jesus, it was the first time we had fun since I joined, and Buttercup acted like they had snatched her hair extensions and fed them to Brad the piano player to eat.”

“He does look like he could follow a human hair-based diet.”

“Point is: for all I care, we're better off without her.”


	5. 3x05 - The First Time

“I'm going on strike.” Sebastian announces to the empty changing room taking off his hideous tweed jacket.

“I might follow.” Blaine scares him from a corner of the room.

“What the hell are you doing here? Practicing your horror movie act?”

“I was in before you for costume fitting and my phone is dead. I'm re-charging before I head home.” He lifts his obnoxiously yellow cased phone, which is indeed plugged to the wall.

“Your costume was the first to be approved.”

“Yeah, but apparently we need to fix it, because if I myself aren't sexually awaken enough, then my costume must be.”

“Do I want to ask?”

Blaine huffs and shakes his head.

“Artie. He says Rachel and I are lacking fundamental understanding of what it feels to have sex, so how can we make the audience feel it?”

“What for? It's West Side Story, not Cats.”

Blaine laughs way more loudly than Sebastian had expected him to, if he had expected him to laugh at all, and there's a second of uncomfortable fluttering in his head, like a swarm of bees is repeatedly hitting the walls of his skull.

“No, but seriously, it's bad advice.”

“Yeah, I-” pause. Ridiculous eyebrow raise and spaced out look. “Know.”

“Oh.” Sebastian muses, leaning over the counter of one of the mirror's. “He put your mind to it.”

“I don't know, I- I didn't mind, you know. Waiting. I still don't, I guess. It's just- Kurt's uncomfortable and it makes me uncomfortable. Sometimes. A bit. I don't know why I'm telling you any of this, sorry. All-boys private school habit.”

“Oh, I get it. Everyday is a sexual health awareness meeting in the hallway.”

Blaine's face lits up.

“You were in private school too?”

“When I lived in Paris. In Bristol, too, before that. I still would be if I hadn't- Well. I still haven't figured out what was the tipping point.”

And now he isn't figuring out what is it that made Blaine look at him with those huge incredulous eyes.

“When you lived in- Okay. Sure.”

“What?” He hopes he doesn't sound too ginger to see Blaine is apparently impressed with his french days. He tucks the notion away.

“I don't know what it is about you. You seem so- above this. I just can't quite pin you down.”

“You could just ask.” It slips past his lips before he's thinking about it.

Blaine's eyes gets a bit narrower. Sebastian stays perfectly still. Blaine parts his lips hesitantly.

What Sebastian wants to do: double down on it. Wink. Insist if resisted.

What Sebastian does is thinking about Quinn's voice warning him against getting his head in the toilet.

“My parents split when I was ten, and I went to live with my mom when I was thirteen. Dad moved around too much.” He adds, like he hasn't said anything weird.

He's tense, while Blaine takes a second to compose himself and look away with a subdued cheeky grin, like he hopes Sebastian didn't notice _he_ has noticed something.

“You must miss it.” He says.

“Paris or my parents' marriage?” He teases, and Blaine rolls his eyes and gets up from his little burrow.

“Fine. Ruin the moment.” He teases back, walking up to Sebastian. Very close. Sebastian could touch him if he wanted. And he wants. But he can't. Can he?

“I wasn't aware we were having a moment.” He flirts away.

Blaine's eyes spark to life and his lips quirk slightly and it makes Sebastian go crazy how restrained he is.

“Move.” He says. Just move. No context. A flat low note. Polite, but definitive. Sebastian's mouth gets very dry.

What he wants to do: pin him against the counter and make an incompetent director really, really happy.

What he does: saying in the most unassuming way possible, which isn't very convincing, “Where do you want me?”

“I-” Blaine says, and then whatever he wanted to say gets swallowed, and a cheeky grin comes out instead. “Don't really care. I just need my bag.”

Evil. A little gremlin of rage and sunshine.

Blaine leaves without another word and Sebastian is left alone with the butterflies in his brain.

Bees.

Not butterflies.

.

Sebastian googles him. He knows its pathetic but his dad is out on a date, Quinn is busy with her girl posse, and he has no friends. Boy Chang is fun, but Sebastian will not be the first one to book a friendly night out. He chases hook ups, not chums.

At least he didn't have to do much digging, or none at all, because typing in Blaine Anderson produces an absurdly high amount of results for someone who's not famous. Blaine, it turns out, was on Dalton Academy's soccer and debate team, was the lead singer of the Warblers, and his name is still featured in the school homepage. Sebastian has the feeling it's the sole survivor of a Blaine Anderson's purge operated when he left.

He desperately wants to know why he did. Maybe his answer will be convincing enough to stop making Sebastian feel spiteful that he isn't attending a decent school instead of the dumpster he's at.

 _I have an idea for the choreography_ he texts Mike, because he's too bored to be proud.

_Cool! Working on something right now. / Want to come over? / We're running out of time!_

Sebastian is calling for a cab as soon as he has an address. He really needs to get that license.

.

He forgot his shoes.

In his defense, the highs of curtain call has made him do worst things than going to chat with his soon-to-be step-mom with his tip tap shoes on. Namely, hugging that one dude who thought Sebastian actually wanted to be his boyfriend after a disastrous but exciting performance of Hairspray.

He clicks his way back to the dark and somber stage. It's almost as somber as Blaine going over his moves like he needs to.

“I screwed up a sequence.” He says before Sebastian has even opened his mouth. Actually, he was hoping Blaine hadn't noticed him so he could just creep for a little longer. He guesses the clicking give him away.

“Oh, no.” He says in the flattest way possible. “You must have completely taken the audience out of it. They'll hate the whole thing and it will all be your fault.”

“Sebastian.” Blaine says in a drawl.

“Blaine.” He mocks as he climbs his way up the stage.

Blaine's eyes drop to his feet.

“I wanted my compliments. Two different pair of shoes with strings were in the way of that.” He shrugs and Blaine laughs and crosses his arms like he didn't mean to laugh.

Sebastian would ask what's wrong if he cared, but he doesn't, so.

“What's wrong?” Fuck. “With the steps. That you messed up.”

Blaine breathes an _ah_ and does the routine perfectly. “This one. I keep tripping on the four.”

“Seemed fine to me. Do it again.”

He does. His ass looks really great in sweatpants.

“It's your left foot.” He points out. “You have to turn it inside, not outside. Or else you lose balance for the turn.”

Blaine frowns but tries it. It's smooth. It's exactly the way he's been doing it in rehearsals.

“Well.” He says, opening his arms. “Thank you for taking away my reason to hide out here.”

“You're welcome.” He shrugs, hands deep in his pockets.

“Mh. Oh, and congratulations. You were amazing.” Sebastian knows the punch is coming so he just waits. “I mean, you were in thirteen school productions, seven theater workshops, and you used to be in the cast of a three month run of a theater-dance production of La Bohemme, so I guess this was just another Thursday for you.”

“It was.” Sebastian agrees. Blaine laughs and looks at him like he can't believe him.

“Modesty is always with you, I see.”

“What's the point in being modest if you know you're good at something?” It gets him a smile. “You should know. You were flawless tonight.”

“Thank you.” Blaine says, low voice and loud eyes. “But I think we just established I've put my foot down wrong for weeks.”

“I think what we established, it's that it was an excuse.”

Just like that Blaine's face falls and Sebastian intensely despises himself. It's a weird feeling. It doesn't happen often, and he hates it.

“I- I just- I had a fight with Kurt.”

“Uh.”

“Uh?” Blaine inquires with the narrow eyed look. “ _Uh_ what?”

“Nothing. It was a _uh_ , I'm listening.”

“It did sound a lot like _uh_ , he's not worth it.”

Because it was, but Blaine doesn't really need to know that.

“Yeah, well, he's not.” Fuck.

Blaine flames up. Instantly. Sebastian briefly wonders if he should step back.

“And what would you know about that?”

“Blaine, it's opening night. You should be happy right now. You should be still wearing off the excitement. Instead you're here, hiding out, in the dark. No one is worth it.” Especially not Kurt Hummel. He bites his tongue.

Blaine is still angry but drops his shoulder back and his hand flies up to his hair, but since he's wearing ounces of gel he only brushes his hairline.

“I really care about him.” He says looking Sebastian in the eyes like he wouldn't believe him if he didn't.

“I don't.” Sebastian says, because what else can he say.

Blaine laughs and it sound a tense but also like he needed it. He touches his hairline again. And then he extends his arm and playfully knocks his knuckles on Sebastian's stomach, his hand in a fist.

One.

Two.

“Thank you.” Three.

Sebastian's breathless _ah._ Four.

Blaine drops his hand, and Sebastian breathes in.

“Shouldn't you be at Artie's for the celebration party?”

“Shouldn't you?”

“I don't want to- I don't know if-” he takes a big breath. Sebastian thinks he's going to scream. “I don't know where things are with Kurt and I don't want to make it weird, and if he goes then-”

“You're the lead. The party doesn't start until you're there.”

“Sebastian.” It's incredible how much frustration Blaine can pack in a skipped dental consonant.

“Come on, B. You need a drink, and it's your night. So what if he's there. Let him hang out with his posse and have some fun with the cool kids. It's gonna be fine. It's gonna be fun.”

“I hate you.” Blaine concludes after a wailing of half broken sounds. “Go get your shoes.”

Sebastian loves to win. “I'll be here in flash. And, Blaine?”

“What?”

“If listening to my incessant bragging about my stage experience isn't enough for you, just ask. You don't need to google me.”

Blaine's throat blushes and Sebastian is enjoying it way too much.

“Excuse me?”

“I never tell anyone about La Bohemme. I had no speaking role, I did a lot of embarrassing interpretative dancing and I hated every second of it. So, again, just ask.” He winks for good measure.

Blaine looks absolutely mortified, but he's smiling like he's having the time of his life.

.

Blaine's car is very nice. And very spacious. He thinks thinks thinks, but it doesn't let it ruin the singalong to the soundtrack of Fame, which he hasn't stop listening to since that disastrous callback.

Sadly, Kurt calls Blaine fifteen minutes into the party and Sebastian spends the next three hours sulking. He makes Tina cry two different times. He has a Just Dance-off with Mike and Brittany which he manages to win because he's the only one caring about it. Quinn announces she's thinking about wearing her uniform again.

It's not a bad night, overall.


	6. 3x06 - Mash Off

Sebastian doesn't have a crush.

Sure, Blaine is hot. Sebastian finds people hot all the time. It's convenient, manageable, and the interest drops after actually putting his hands down their pants. Which is why he blames Quinn for this weird thing he keeps doing, this weird half giggle that escapes his lips anytime Blaine presses a key and looks at him under his lashes.

Had he been a free elf, then he would have just fucked Blaine and moved on. But he contractually can't, so he keeps thinking and thinking and thinking and isn't Blaine just so pretty when he tilts his head like that.

“Sebastian?”

Fuck. Sebastian does that unquestionably very manly squeal again, but his smirk is inscrutable.

“Yes?”

“Do you need to take five? You keep spacing out.”

“I'm not spacing out.”

Blaine scrunches his nose and Sebastian smiles. Fuck. He looks away to get a grip.

“Well, we have been studying very hard.” Blaine says playing a scale on the piano with a smooth voice that sounds like trouble. “Maybe we should have some fun.”

Sebastian licks his teeth.

Blaine's scale turns into a song. Then he starts singing. A fucking. Billy Ocean. Classic.

Sebastian hates him with a fiery passion. There is no way he doesn't know. None.

He's been willing to give himself some credit. To think maybe he hasn't been that obvious. After all Chantel has left his spine alone so far, so he has to be somewhat decent at being straight passing.

But this performance Blaine is putting up is intentional. Cruel. What other intent could Blaine have for singing Love Really Hurts Without You of all songs, with that stupid grin that screams that he knows he's doing something he shouldn't.

Sebastian still stands up from his spot on the floor and joins him on the piano bench. He joins in the song for good measure, because he isn't at all enthralled by it. And then Blaine is speaking more than he's singing, and God Sebastian had never noticed he has the sparest amount of freckles on his nose, and he smells like expensive marseilles soap and- he jumps on his feet when Blaine smashes down on the keys with both hands.

“Have you gone insane?” He shouts with his heart beating in his throat. God, he's going to die and it's all because of Blaine's terrible practical jokes and complete disregards of his feelings and he can't believe he has the audacity of having a crush on this boy.

“Maybe! I- I don't-”

Sebastian looks up at Blaine when he springs on his feet. He stares as Blaine frantically collects half of the music sheets on the stand, gives up when three sheets fall on the ground, and overall looks like he's just had a near death experience.

“I- I'm gonna-” skittery eyes “I think we're-” shallow breath “good. For-” deeper breath “for the assignment. For today.” He gingerly picks up the fallen sheets.

Sebastian still feels his heart burning but he doesn't care. He nods. Slowly. Deliberately.

“I should go. I'm gonna go wait for Kurt outside class, we're going on a date at the mall, you know.”

“Not really, but. Sure.” Sebastian smiles. Wildly.

“Great.”

“Great.”

“See you on Monday. Have a nice weekend.”

“Have fun on your date.” Sebastian drawls with malicious glee.

Blaine looks down and away one last time before walking away. Sebastian takes a good look at his ass and doesn't miss the half misstep, as if he's going to turn around.

He doesn't, but Sebastian plays a single note of excitement on the piano.

.

“No.”

“Come on!” He whines. “It's the perfect crime! Victim-less too.”

“How is Blaine cheating on Kurt and you getting kicked to the bottom of the school pyramid, potentially dragging me down with you, victim-less? Do tell.”

“Why should I? You don't listen to me.” He whines some more, because it annoys her.

She's much scarier in her uniform and blonde hair. Punk princess Quinn was approachable if you liked danger. Cheerio Quinn looks like some kind of sexy former assassin on a secret task force.

“I'll humor you. Expose your asinine plan.”

“I'm officially straight and dating you. He inexplicably doesn't want to break up with Betty White. We want to screw each other. We do, we be quite about it, nobody needs to know, I go back being a closet case, he goes on with his white picket fence fantasy. If a tree falls.”

“I'm still at a loss as what makes you think he'd sleep with you.”

“He was a breath away from sticking his tongue in my mouth.”

“Or were you a breath away from sticking your tongue in his mouth?”

Sebastian points at her.

“That's not what happened.” He says a beat too late.

“Mh-mh.”

“Don't condescend me. He was the one singing flirty songs to me!”

“So he was just being Blaine.”

Pause.

“It was different. I know what I'm talking about, you're not going to gaslight me.”

“Okay, I didn't want to break your bubble because you're the only good thing that's happened to be since sophomore year of High School, but you're making it painful. You think he likes you because you're used to people wanting you. He smiles at you, and you think: see, he's into me. And maybe he is. I hope he's not. Because sleeping with you won't wash away his feelings. The only thing it will do is making him hate you, because you will remind him of how much he hurt the person he'd choose to be with if he could.”

Silence.

“Dinner's ready, kids!” Judy's voice sing songs from the other room.

Quinn quickly wipes a tear away, and that's exactly why Sebastian doesn't trust her on this.

.

“Dad?” He asks late at night as they watch a rerun of Seinfeld.

“Son?”

“What was the thing that convinced you to enroll me in public school?”

His father takes a deep breath long enough to hear a full laugh track on TV.

“Do you want the truth?”

“Uhm. I'm not sure, now.”

His father cups the back of his head.

“You looked miserable. I figured sending you off to boarding school again wasn't going to make you any happier.”

Sebastian wants to protest. He does.

He hasn't been miserable.

He has been tired, maybe. Bored, for sure.

Still.


	7. 3x07 - I Kissed A Girl

It's so ironic Sebastian almost wants to break character. He won't, because it's the last thing Quinn needs, and frankly he's having the time of his life.

Rachel: “As the proud daughter of two gay dads you're making me feel unsafe!”

Mercedes: “Maybe you should watch your mouth with soap!”

Kurt: “Will you die if you show the littlest amount of compassion?”

Santana: “I don't need compassion for fuck all, at least Fievel here has the guts to-”

“Hey hey hey!” Mister Schuester screams throwing his bag on the piano. “What's going on here?”

“Sebastian-”

“Can talk for himself.” He cuts Kurt off, because of course it was Kurt throwing him under the bus. “And I simply suggested that maybe we didn't need an entire week to make Santana feel better for liking p- cats?”

Blaine snorts. Maybe he should get him acquainted with Grizabella.

“You called her Shaqueera!” Tina shouts, and Sebastian turns to her but doesn't really have anything to say.

Aside from: “And here I thought Asians girls were supposed to be good and quiet- here it goes a whole pornhub category.”

“Sebastian!” Mr Schuester shouts. Fuck.

“You're cruel!” Tina shouts crying again, like he cares. “You're cruel, and mean and-”

“And so is Santana. Didn't she tell you yesterday that you dress like Hello Kitty if she was working the back alleys?”

“Santana is my friend!”

“Exactly my point. Everybody at this school either worships her, wants to do her or is scared shit-less of her. What do you think it's gonna happen to her?”

Sebastian feels the huff of Blaine's breath on his neck before he talks.

“Sebastian?” He says, hunched over the back of Sebastian's chair, and he's very very close. “She might not need help now. But if something ever happens to her, she will know she isn't alone, and you'll be glad you helped when you could.”

People are still screaming and Blaine spoke very very quietly.

“It's not that serious.” Sebastian slurs back.

“It isn't until it gets so.” Blaine's voice is barely more than a whisper, and Sebastian still thinks it's ridiculous, but he can let it go. He can keep quiet.

He snarls, but he doesn't add anything else to the conversation, and when Mr Schuester informs him he's staying behind to help cleaning up the auditorium, which Coach Sylvester has decided to use as a storage space, he just nods.

.

There's five thousands boxes to move and Sebastian is regretting accepting his fate without posing resistance. At least Mike stuck around to help and there's plenty of hideous thing around to hit each other with. Like rubber batons.

“Dude, just to clear up something:” Mike says with a thrust. “I like you but I'm not okay with how you talk to my girlfriend.”

“Please, she can take it.” Sebastian half turns and gets to hit in. “You know I don't mean it.”

“It's still not nice.”

“I'm not nice.”

“You're nice to Quinn.”

“I like Quinn.”

“You're nice to Blaine, too.”

Sebastian did not expect Mike playing dirty. He gets a hit square in the ribs and throws the baton at his head.

“He's fun. I'm allowed to have more than one friend in this piss hole.”

“You play way tougher than you are.”

“Do you want to get hit? Because there are real batons in this boxes that could end your prima ballerina dreams.” He says, moving another box.

He frowns when Mike doesn't renspond. He's vaguely noticed a trend of Mike not wanting to put the verb dance in future tense.

“Get me a free dinner in the best restaurant Lima has to offer, and I'll consider being nice to your girlfriend.” He offers, because it seems a decent thing to do, and he's got this nagging weird feeling about himself since Blaine looked at him like- he doesn't know like what.

“Ever been to Breadstixx?”

“I've only eaten them.”

“Oh, you haven't done that either. Not like those. Boys night out on Thursday?”

“That sounds very gay, but yeah. Count me in.”

.

“You're probably right about Santana-” Blaine tells him during an outdoor lesson of AP Music Theory. “But I used to be as popular as a freshmen can be when it got serious for me. So.”

Luckily the look in Sebastian's eyes, whatever it might say, seem to be enough for Blaine to doodle some stick men on Sebastian's notes.

.

“You're- doing great, son.” His dad squirms in the passenger seat.

“Shut up.” Sebastian chastises him on the spot. He isn't even sure what his dad told him, but he doesn't want to hear it.

He doesn't like driving. It's nerve wrecking. He already has a car body count on him. He's rich enough to just pay for cars to drive him around. He doesn't fucking need to get a license. He's too young for it. It's stupid to make children drive and it's not his responsibility if he crashes Judy's stupid Honda Civic. Or if he crashed Grizabella during the first disastrous attempt at this tomfoolery.

“You can give a bit of gas.” His dad encourages him.

“Shut up.” Sebastian hisses, slamming on the break. “This is preposterous. I'm too young to drive a car.”

“But you're not too young to screw your mother's boyfriend?”

“That's not fair.” He says gripping the steering wheel.

He slowly turns into the driveway. Inch by inch.

“You don't get to pick and choose when you're an adult.” Sebastian's dad good-naturedly says squeezing his knee.

“You neither.” He replies, turning the keys off.

He covers his face with his hands as soon as the car is safe, sound and still. He doesn't remember ever sweating so much in such a short amount of time.

“What got you back on the horse?” His dad drawls, and Sebastian just takes a big breath.

“I had to take my minds off of things.”

Austin is uncharacteristically silent and Sebastian let his hands drop after springing his hair back to form.

“What?”

“Everything all right? At school?”

“Yeah. I mean, it's beyond boring, very noisy and I'm pretty sure it doesn't respect any health standards, but I've got one cool class and a few friends. It's fine.”

“Any nice boy? Possibly your age?”

He laughs in the fakest way possible.

“No.” He says, and it feels bad to say it. “Maybe.” A little bit better. “Okay, fine, stop nagging me. His name is Blaine, he's really pretty, and we're gonna get married and adopt five children of various nationalities. You happy with your interrogation now? I swear, man, you're so overbearing.”

He doesn't sit around to hear his father obnoxious southern laugh. He climbs out of the car and takes in a long breath of Lima, Ohio fresh air

He takes a look down the road, at the distant stop sign. He drove to that and got back. It's nice to get something right for a change.


	8. 3x08 - Hold On to Sixteen

“I'm not for sale!”

Sebastian is mildly impressed by Blaine's outburst. He's not surprised: he's been looking at him simmering in rage since they brought back this so called trouty-mouth, all rights reserved. They've been selling him like some kind of grace to the show choir scene, but he's just boring. Fuckable and forgettable. That they'd go to such lengths to bring back this so called star when Blaine has been sitting in this unsanitary plastic chairs since the second week of school, Sebastian blames it on Finn Hudson's completely justifiable insecurities.

“Sometimes I really don't get him.” Kurt sighs to Tina somewhere to Sebastian's left, when Blaine runs off.

“Don't worry about it, Kurt. I'm sure he might not get why you insist on dressing like a blind Drag Queen whose only theme is being as gay as they can, but so what? Every couple has its problems.” He says, even if he knows Quinn's elbow is going to hit him in the ribs.

“You know dude, I'm starting to think you really have something against homos.” Puckerman says, and Sebastian is really close from saying that he does. He ignores him instead.

“Now, if you don't mind, I'll go try and convince the guy who will win us Sectionals that yall are worth helping. Even if you're not.”

“Nah, dude.” Finn sighs. “I'll go. I've been an ass.”

“Ya think?” Sebastian asks. “You just gave him a metric measurement of how far you're willing to go before recognizing that he's even in this room.”

“I know.” Finn sighs again before trailing out.

Sebastian is only mildly disappointed he won't be the one chasing Blaine down.

.

They still don't let Blaine sing enough for Sebastian's taste.

He tells him, under the light of the emergency exit, as Puck lits a cigarette and Sam Evans demonstrates even more body rolls.

“Thank you,” Blaine says, and it's very breathy and very quiet.

Sebastian nods uselessly.

“Want a smoke?” Pucks asks them, and Sebastian is about to go on a tirade about black lungs just to piss him off, when Blaine takes a cigarette.

He's turned down guys that smoke before, because he chokes on cigarettes like a pre-teen. He wouldn't turn Blaine down.

“Want to try?” Blaine asks. “Just don't inhale. It's not good for you.”

Sebastian knows what he wants. For Blaine to inhale for him and breath smoke into his mouth.

He also knows what he could say. Ask him if he picked up the habit in that all-boys school of his, and how many guys he left hanging after sharing a smoke behind the buildings.

But he can't.

Because in the horny frenzy of his brain, he's missed one important thing.

They're both the new kid. Yet he never saw Blaine at a boys' night out.

So he puts his hands in his pocket, leans back on the railing, and starts listing smoking health risks, making up every percentage.

Blaine rolls his eyes, and maybe Sebastian can avoid fucking something up, for a change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> end of the first batch! hope you find this mess entertaining enough to stay tuned for episodes 10 to 14! ❤❤


	9. 3x09 - Extraordinary Merry Christmas

This whole being friends with Blaine thing is going okay. He's a lot of fun, which is Sebastian's only requirement for friends. One that is very rarely reached.

In class, they spend most of their time playing the hangman. In Glee Club, he and Mike sings backup for Blaine in nearly every performance, stabbing each other with mic stands and pulling off moves than half of the room would not understand the physics of.

"I think Kurt wants to kill you." Mike tells him after they're done with an over the top rehendition of Last Christmas (which Rachel proptly tells them it's a very triggering memory for her blabla something about christmast three shopping blabla but they've done a wonderful job and now her faith in this song is restored, yay).

"Who?" He asks, and Mike shakes his head.

But really, it's not Sebastian's fault if whenever Blaine gives him attention, Sebastian doesn't turn away from it. For example, if Blaine wants to gift him an empty decorative box stolen from the choir room, he's not gonna say no, or pull away from a hug. A very manly one, Blaine even pats his back.

In short: if Kurt wants to be jealous, maybe he should stop acting like he's embarassed of Blaine.

.

“I don't know if I want to ask you if you're sure you're not related, or if you're sure you don't want to fuck her.” He says Blaine when he's done flirting with Rachel Berry over a stupid Christmas song Sebastian doesn't know, and he drops on the chair next to him.

Blaine scrunches his nose.

“Then again, maybe it's both. There's studies about the likelihood of wanting to screw your estranged siblings.”

“You have any family in Ireland, Italy or the Philippines?”

“You're Filipino?” He asks, and Blaine seems really amused for a very long moment.

“Yes, Sebastian.” He says, very slowly, his chest still heaving from the duet. “Half.”

Then he's off to the back row, and Sebastian is pretty sure he missed something.

.

“The last thing I would have expected when I moved to Lima, Ohio, would be to end up on TV.” He reflects watching Hudson tripping on a stage light.

“They were in a mattress commercial, once.” Blaine says, and Sebastian raises an eyebrow at him when he closes in to straighten Sebastian's tie.

“Suck that we missed it.” He says, and he must sound very disingenous because Blaine seems rather amused.

“Why are you so determined not to have fun, Sebastian?”

He frowns.

“What?”

“You spend most of your time sulking and then you complain you get bored. We're on TV, and you're here hiding behind the cameras trying to find a reason for this to be lame.”

“I don't do that.” He protests, because he doesn't. Maybe. Not all the time. “It's not my fault if they're all so boring. And if they're not boring, they're insufferable.”

“Like Santana?”

“Yes.”

He must have really fucked up his tie because Blaine is still tugging at it.

“How many people have you even talked to?”

“How many people have you talked to?”

Blaine only kind of gapes.

“Enough.”

“Yeah, me too. I don't need more than three friends. It's already time-consuming as it is. And you're the worst of them. ”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Absolutely. You distract me from my procrastination. Do you know when was the last time I was on reddit bullying people for thinking Dan is Gossip Girl instead that paying attention to my education?”

Blaine leans in, his hand going flat against his chest.

“Monday morning?” He asks.

“You weren't supposed to take a guess.”

He hums, and just like he's gone.

He's watching the Cheerios twirling around ribbon sitting on the set couch, when it occurs to him that it probably was Monday morning. It's the only day Blaine doesn't share any class with him.


	10. 3x10 – Yes/No

“Doesn't Mr. Schue like,” Sebastian drawls, sprawled on a chair waiting for Artie's clue to go stand so far backstage it will be like he won't even be there. “Have any adult friends to help him propose?”

Blaine shrugs and touches up his hair in the mirror. It looks really good for a minute, until he lathers more gel on it and glues it to his scalp.

“I think it's sweet. He wants to make everyone feel like they have an involved family. Especially the ones without, like, a cool dad.”

“Wouldn't know the feeling.” Sebastian says, “My dad is pretty cool. Even Quinn likes him, and she thinks all guys are pigs.”

“Mh,” Blaine says raising his eyebrows at him suggestively, “Brought her home to meet the parents, uh?”

Sebastian screams in the privacy of his own mind.

“Yeah.” He smirks. “It was kind of a forced choice. She thinks cars are unsanitary, so.”

Blaine smiles and leans against the table, head ducked to the side. He should wear low cut shirts more often. Or just anything that isn't a shirt buttoned up all the way to his jaw.

“How did you even meet?” Blaine asks, and it's okay because between him and Quinn they have both memorized a detailed schedule for their fake relationship.

Sebastian is frankly disappointed people don't seem interested in their third date especially. It involves stealing cotton candy from a kid.

“It was a dry and hot summer night,” he starts, and Blaine rolls his eyes.

“Cut it, Smythe. I've heard the official version before. You have so much fun with this banal stuff that I know it's made up to cover for something fun. So what's the truth?”

Sebastian is spared from answering by Artie rolling backstage.

“Mr. Schue is in the hallway, I need you on your marks.”

“What you need, is another song. This is a stupid idea.”

“I don't see you proposing an alternative.” Artie says, “We all know you're here just to be Quinn's arm candy anyway, I don't expect you to get the intricacy of a performance.”

“I'm gonna throw him down the stairs.” Sebastian without lowering his voice. “I mean, he's already in a wheelchair, what more harm can it do?”

Blaine inhales, and maybe Sebastian took it too far, but it does sound kind of amused in a _I can't believe you_ kind of way.

“Why don't you show him he's wrong instead?”

He thinks about it.

He did think of one song when Mr. Schue asked, but that's just because he might know only two singers that aren't boy bands, being Phil Collins and Billy Joel, but he knows them well.

“Only if I can hide behind you if they think it's cool.”

“Mh?”

“They think Moves Like Jagger is a good idea for a proposal. What does it say about my idea if they think it's good?”

Blaine laughs.

.

Sebastian is mildly offended everyone seems to have forgotten he has the voice to carry a solo, or match Blaine in a duet. He played Riff in West Side Story. Flawlessly. But he is in too much of a good mood to really care.

He turns to Blaine, sitting next to him on the piano stool, his hands in his lap now that they're done with She's Got A Way.

“That was so unoriginal.” Artie pushes his glasses up.

“That was so lame, dude.” Puck puts his foot up the chair in front of him.

He's waiting for Santana's jab but she's too busy staring at them with her mouth open, clearly making it a point to be too disgusted to speak.

Guess Sebastian can take credit for the song.

“That was beautiful, you guys.” Mr. Schue tells them, and Blaine smiles. “Truly, a captivating rendition of a wonderful classic.” Blaine frowns. “But, there's only one problem. I dedicated that to Terry before. My first wife.” Blaine pouts.

“And that's why you don't do this,” Sebastian says, playing a note on the piano. Blaine squats his hand away. “You ruin perfectly good songs if you tie them to people. They leave.”

“But that's what makes it special,” Mr. Schuester pats his back. “It makes people know you want them to stay.”

Blaine smiles at him, and Sebastian drags his foot on the floor. Lame.

.

“Are you home alone?” Santana Lopez asks him when he opens the door.

“I would make a joke about Quinn knowing you want me in my bedroom, but I think I've heard something about you begin a lez? Like, once or twice. Heard a couple songs about it, for sure.”

“Are you home alone?” Santana Lopez repeats, and he shrugs.

“Does it matter?” He asks.

“Yes, it does.” She says, and Sebastian is quite curious.

“I am.”

“You're gay!” She shouts right away, and she almost runs him over marching her way to the living room of the Smythe residence.

“You're so gay that I've spent the last four months joking about you getting freaky with Mike Chang under the bleachers because it isn't gay if you're both dancers, and I couldn't see I was right.” She continues, and Sebastian crosses his arms and leans on the archway. She turns and points at him with bounce. “Not only you are gay, but you're so gay that you flew under my radar like a rainbow lorikeet, because you're not even trying to hide it. You keep eating Anderson up like he's the last cupcake at gay wedding, sharing bro fists with him after a dance break to the manly sound of female pop music, and here I am thinking _wow_ , guy friendship really his homophobic and gay at the same time. That's what's wrong with America.” Sebastian lets her go on, because he knows the high of a very long rant. “You're so gay that never once you've been seen kissing your girlfriend in public, and everyone thinks you're just so confident that you don't need to mark your territory. Last year everybody rightfully made a big deal out of Trouty Mouth singing a duet with Hummel to save him from a nine to five job as a paper towel, and now here you come, and you are so gay that you just sung the most vomit-inducing mushy duet with a gay guy, not even bothering to look at your beard once, and you got away with it.”

“Doesn't seem like it.” He smirks, and she stops midway through a very fake smile.

“You don't care.” She says.

“I really don't.” He shrugs.

“We've been at each others throats since we met, you're making a fool of my best friend, and you don't care that I know.”

“You just asked me if I was home alone. Twice. I don't think you'll even tell Quinn.”

Her mouths open but she says nothing.

“Besides, she knows.”

“Pardon me?”

“Our parents are getting married. We just thought it'd be fun.”

She gapes.

“The bitch didn't tell me?”

“Do you even talk outside of that choir room?” He asks, and she shakes her ponytail.

“Don't even try to question my friendship with Quinn. You're a man and you're not a cheerleader, you don't have the genes to understand it.”

“Well, we're gonna call it off soon anyway. We have it all planned out. We'll have a family dinner, our parents are gonna fall in love, and we'll step down and let them be happy, because it's realistically their last chance at not dying alone, or ending up married to a much younger man-slash-woman that is only counting the days until they'll die already, and leave them all their money. The marriage is in May. We're thinking about a two month engagement.”

“Sounds fun.” Santana says after a moment. “Can I get a role in it? I'd offer to be your side hoe, but that particular train has left town.”

“Of course.” He grins, “We'll find something for you. Just don't tell Brittany, I don't trust her to keep her mouth shut.”

“But she's my girlfriend.”

“And I don't want her to accidentally out me.”

He frowns.

“Why are you making that face?” Santana asks.

“Because I think this stopped being a joke.” He drawls looking at her. “I think I got used to play it straight.”

“It's a trap.” She kind of smiles. “Don't get buried in the quicksand.”

Sebastian gives her a decent smile.

“So what is it that gave it away?” He asks, and she shrugs.

“I'm hypersensitive to being in love with your best friend and singing romantic songs with them under false pretenses, so that you won't have to say it out loud and you can tell yourself it doesn't really mean anything afterwards. It's my superpower. You'd say it's useless, but it really compliments my mexican third eye.”

They stare at each other for long enough that it becomes awkward.

“Want to call Quinn over and see me pretend I want to rip her extensions out for lying to me, just to keep her on her toes?”

“Sure.”


	11. 3x11 - Michael

“Want to go to the arcade bar tonight?” Blaine says, fanning himself with his shirt after the Michael Jackson impromptu spectacle he pulled off in the hallways.

“Sure.” Sebastian says, dry and straight, determined not to let Blaine know he's got feelings for him. Which he doesn't, because Santana doesn't know what she's talking about. “Are you driving me, or should I ask Mike?”

Blaine hesitates.

“Actually, I was thinking- you could bring Quinn, and I could bring Kurt.”

Blaine seems aware it's a weird thing to ask him.

“I'll have to ask her.” He says, because he's curious. “But sure.”

“Good.” Blaine swallows.

It sounds dangerous. And Sebastian knows this couldn't have been his idea, or if it is it comes from being questioned. Santana caught up, after all. Maybe Kurt decided to pay attention to Blaine long enough for once, that he might have caught Sebastian subconsciously doing something like staring.

They for sure touch a lot more, lately. In a manly, completely not suggestive way, because there's nothing to suggest. He's over it. They're friends. They crossed that bridge, and that's all. So what if Blaine is the prettiest guy he's ever seen and Sebastian can't stop thinking about touching his hair since he's seen it wet and gel free after a particularly intense game of five-a-side soccer.

He's gonna kill Santana. She's made it weird for him. Maybe he'll kill Brittany, that will hurt more.

And Blaine isn't helping, with his strange double date requests and that hesitant look in his face.

There's an easy way to make sure Sebastian isn't mistaking what's going on. He puts his hands in his pocket and goes for his best easy smirk.

“Good outfit, by the way. The whole preppy frat boy thing you've got going on? Nice.” He drawls, making sure it sounds every bit as explicit as he can't say.

Blaine's eyes immediately jump from Sebastian's eyes to his lips.

Sebastian grins and leaves, to avoid him the misery of having to figure out a safe answer.

.

Sebastian is wasting time at the jukebox to save his ears from Kurt's screechy voice, when Blaine catches up to him and leans his hip on the console.

“Hey, there.” He says under his breath, and Sebastian has to read his lips to get it among the loud jingles of games.

“Hi. Tired of Kurt and Quinn arguing about the Christian Church on a Friday night?”

“Kind of.” He nods, “And I wanted to talk to you.”

“What is it, B?”

He hesitates. His cheeks looks slightly more saturated under the reddish lights.

“Thank you for not making it weird. Weirder than it has to be, at least.”

Sebastian has thought about making it weird. Extensively. Flirt with Blaine all through the night. Ruthlessly antagonize Kurt. But it took five minutes to make it clear to him that he wasn't the one under scrutiny, and he has no intention of making Blaine's life any harder.

Besides, it's a small victory that out of all Blaine's male friends, he has been singled out as the one Blaine might have a crush on.

“No problem. Although, if he makes you feel guilty about having friends, maybe you should break up with him.”

He gets defensive very quickly.

“That's not what-”

“Isn't he jealous that you want to fuck me?”

“I don't-”

“Blaine. It's okay. I'd to want to fuck me, too.”

He's mostly joking, but Blaine laughs a little, and Sebastian suddenly feels it, the sand climbing over his legs.

They talk over each other.

Sebastian giggles, that weird half sound he hasn't made in a while.

“Sorry,” he says, “What is it?”

“I just wanted to say that he has his reasons.” Blaine says, and it's shy and it's playful, and Sebastian should have gone first. “I have been kind of- you know, you're straight, you're weren't getting it, I thought it was harmless. It sure was fun.”

“What was fun?”

“Flirting. A bit.”

Sebastian frowns.

“And now I'm making you uncomfortable, and I should go.”

“Don't you dare,” he says, a flat hand on Blaine's chest to keep him from getting away.

Blaine's eyes go down before they go up, and up some more, because they're standing very close and Blaine doesn't look short, but he is.

“What are you talking about?” Sebastian insists.

“Nothing.”

“We haven't been flirting.”

“I mean,” Blaine drops the sentence, a smile on his lips that Sebastian doesn't like, because he's been nothing but a good friend and this is insulting.

“Tell me one time I've said anything that was inappropriate.”

Blaine suddenly looks lost in thoughts. His eyes don't leave Sebastian's. His lips are slightly parted.

Fuck.

Sebastian slams down on at least four buttons at once and the jukebox blasts off Girls Just Want to Have Fun. Blaine is startled enough that he makes half a jump, and Sebastian straightens up, hands in his pockets.

“We should go. We don't want your boyfriend thinking you're preying on the straights, do we?”

When he sits back next to Quinn they're moved on to talk about Mercedes and Sam, and Sebastian couldn't care less.

Blaine has the grace of giving him a minute before sitting down too. In front of him. Sebastian can hear him thinking. It's unnerving.

“We're in an arcade. Shouldn't we play something?”

“You're the one who complained because I was beating you at pac-man, sweetie.”

“Pac-man isn't the only game in here, darling.”

“The jukebox ate his coin.” Blaine says, “He got a bit cranky. Another round of drinks?”

When his stupid beer comes, it tastes like sand.

.

It's Sunday morning, and Quinn is hitting him with a pillow.

“What?” He asks, when he made sense of the flurry of feathers.

She hands him an envelope.

“It's too early, I can't read it.”

She throws it at him.

“I got into Yale!” She yells. “I got into Yale!”

Sebastian can't really say he'll ever be that excited to get into college, but he laughs and hugs her all the same, when when she wraps her arms around him.

“Gonna miss me?” She beams pulling away, her hands still on his shoulders.

It's too early in the morning to be a smartass about this.

“I think I will.”

She kisses his cheek and he hugs her even tighter.


	12. 3x12 - The Spanish Teacher

Blaine isn't in class on Monday. Or in Glee Club.

“Where's Blanderson?” Puckerman asks him, “We need a fifth guy for soccer.”

“Hey. I can be your fifth guy for soccer.”

“We need a fifth guy for soccer who actually knows how to play.”

“I know how to play!”

“You know how to run. Your footwork sucks.”

They keep arguing about it all through Tina's solo and Mr. Schuester sends both of them home with an extra assignment about respect.

“Ask Kurt where Blaine is.” He tells Quinn when they're packing up.

“Ask him yourself.”

“Can't you do one thing for me? I thought that was the good part about having a sibling.”

She shushes him. Then she turns.

“Hey, Kurt!” She calls. “Sebastian wants to know where Blaine is.”

Sebastian grits his teeth. Kurt looks unbearably smug.

“He's out of town for a couple of weeks.”

“Happy now?” Quinn asks him.

“I'm gonna break up with you in the hallways and force you into a complete breakdown. Just you wait.”

“That would be a lovely way to say goodbye to McKinley.” She says looking up with a small smile, “One very last breakdown. Make sure people will still remember me.”

“You don't need a last breakdown for people to remember you,” he says because he might hate her right now, but he's starting to learn that it doesn't mean he can still like her. “You're Quinn Fabray.”

She smiles like she thinks it's nice for him to say it.

It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.


	13. 3x13 - Heart

“I think it's time we break up.” Quinn tells him in the middle of the hallway.

“I'm sorry?” he asks looking around him.

“I'm gonna go to college next year.” She says, “You're gonna stay here. I think it's good for both of us if we end this before it really hurts.”

He raises an eyebrow, but that isn't a game he can win.

People are staring.

“Are you really doing this now?”

“Is it a bad time?”

“Don't you want to go to Sugar's party? Singles can't go.”

She smiles and rocks on her feet.

“I think it'll be okay.”

Sebastian is about to make a scene, but Quinn is right about being remembered, and unlike her he does have one more year at McKinley on the line. He doesn't have the luxury of public breakdowns.

Speaking of public breakdowns, he's on his way to Microeconomics when Santana throws him into a locker.

“I have a point to make and you're the lucky winner, yay!”

She says before starting to make out with him in earnest.

Sebastian's first kiss was a boy at theater camp. He thought he'd never have to kiss a girl in his lifetime. Santana is a good kisser, though, and it's been an embarrassingly long time since he's kissed anyone, so he ignores the stickiness of her lip gloss and how round her hips are to the touch.

It's a good while before Santana gets back on her feet and opens her arms.

“Today, 11:14 am! See if that makes it to the PDA report card, Figgins! Not my about my sapphic orientation, my ass!” She yells, and then open and closes her mouth a couple of times. “Why do you taste like cotton candy? Made out with the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man lately?”

“Mh-mh.” Sebastian agrees. “Tony the Tiger was my childhood crush and now I can only chase after his shadow.”

“Kinky.” Santana says straightening her ponytail. “And you're gonna have to kiss Britt when you see her. Make it even.”

“I will not do that.”

“You're such a bore. Do you ever have fun?”

In truth, Sebastian doesn't think he's ever had so much fun before coming to Lima, Ohio.

It's quite a tragedy, really.

.

“Hey.”

Sebastian ignores the books dropping on the floor and casually leans against the lockers. One last book falls on the floor and he ignores it.

“Hey.” He nods back.

To his credit, Blaine doesn't laugh.

“Heard you broke up with Quinn.”

“That's unclear.” He says, “I still have to talk to her about it. I think she's got a crush on a guy that wears sandals in February. I'm confident she'll come to her senses.”

He doesn't like the look in Blaine's eyes. It's guarded. It implies they shouldn't be standing there alone.

“You're taking this really well.”

“Yeah, I-”

“Can we talk?”

Sebastian taps his fingers on the locker.

“What about?”

“Not here. After Glee club?”

Sebastian sighs.

“Sure.”

.

Sebastian loves Blaine's car. He resists the temptation to run his finger on the console. There's a light drizzle outside and it smells of wet concrete and expensive leather inside. That, and raspberry.

“So. What am I being abducted for?”

“Do you like me, Sebastian?”

He looks at Blaine very slowly.

“What?”

“It's okay, if you do. I understand it can be scary to-”

“Are you seriously trying to consul me right now?” Sebastian says, “How about we just skip to the part you tell me it will get better, and I can pretend this never happened?”

It's so ironic that it's borderline hysteric. Sebastian didn't even realize he had to go from disliking girls to wanting to make out with them. He's the last person that needs the gay talk.

Blaine is extremely fidgety.

“What's your plan, Sebastian? Ignore it?”

“Yes.” He says. “What's your plan?”

Blaine looks very confused.

“You like me, but I'm not being pedantic about it, am I? It's okay if you want to screw me, Blaine, I understand than dating a guy who must sound like a bad impersonator of Mariah Carey whenever you jerk him off can't keep you satisfied. It's only natural to want a fuck a man when you're gay, isn't it?”

Blaine stares at him, deeply unimpressed.

Sebastian likes that about him, that he knows Sebastian's insults have the depth of a kiddie pool.

“Are you done?”

“No. I have to tell you something.”

“That's what we're here for.”

Here it goes.

Sebastian actually thinks about praying for a second. Here's what happen to you when you're the only one in the family who sleeps in on Sunday morning.

“I never really dated Quinn.” He says, “Our parents met at Church this summer. And then I got sent to live with my dad with express shipping, and suddenly I had a soon to be step-mother, and a sister. Technically two, but I never met the other one. Anyway, we got to school, we both wanted to be popular, so we pretended to date. And I didn't want to ruin it for her, so I didn't make a move on you, and then- the quicksand got me.”

Blaine doesn't speak. And when he does, it's:

“Quicksand?”

“Yeah. It was fun in the beginning, and then- at some point I wasn't lying because it was fun, but because I didn't want to- lose what I found being the guy that was dating Quinn Fabray, I guess.”

“Just so we're clear,” Blaine says, “You're gay.”

“Uh-uh.”

Blaine's lips are parted.

“And you like me.”

“I spent the better part of my first month here trying to get your attention.”

“And I spent the better part of it trying not to give you any.”

“I noticed. You never looked at me. I thought straight and taken wasn't your type.”

Blaine is running a hand over the steering wheel.

“You can't be here.” He says eventually, and Sebastian chuckles.

“What?”

Blaine's chest is heaving.

“I thought this wasn't a thing that could happen, Sebastian. I thought you were, well, straight and taken. And then after the arcade, I thought maybe you needed help with it. I wasn't going to tell other people about it, so I guessed it was okay to- be there for you. But if you're gay, and you like me, and I like you, we can't be here. We can't-”

“I've been gay and I've liked you all this time, Blaine. I'm not going to jump you. I'm not gonna try anything. We're friends.”

“You-” Blaine says through his teeth, “are not the problem here, Sebastian.”

He runs his eyes over Blaine.

And then he does something he really shouldn't.

He puts his hand over Blaine's. It goes stiff under his touch, grips the steering wheel harder.

“What if I want to be?”

Blaine turns to him, eyes on his lips. He looks lost.

Sebastian takes back his hand, and just like that Blaine takes his face in his hands and kisses him.

His lips are cold, and soft, and he smells like winter. When Sebastian puts a hand behind his neck he parts his lips, a hand sliding down Sebastian's arm, guiding his hand to Blaine's thigh. The seams of his jeans sear Sebastian's palm.

He doesn't remember how they stop. Who pulled away, who stopped clutching at each others' clothes. But he remembers the light rasp in Blaine's voice when he kissed the corner of his mouth. _I thought I'd never get to do this_.

Sebastian is afraid is never gonna get to do it again.

He can't keep Quinn's teary, angry voice out of his head, from so many months ago.

.

“How,” Santana says sauntering towards him pulling at the straps of her backpack, “Does no one notice that as soon as you break up with Quinn, the gaysTM break up too?”

“They did?”

“I have no idea, but I wanted to look at your sorry lovesick face when I said it.”

Sebastian crosses his arms.

“Now, now, don't waste your time being angry at me.” She waves it off, “Quinn told me you went clubbing yesterday night. I've told her you might have liked our make out sesh a little too much, or the past five months playing the the part of the perfect fifties husband finally got to you, but she seems convinced that it's boy troubles.”

He's too tired for this. He slept maybe an hour tonight.

“It is.”

She walks past her, and he can her her trainers bouncing behind him.

“Come on, tell your lez friend Snixx what happened. I'm the only form of female advice you're gonna get.”

“I've got Quinn.”

“Quinn will judge you. I won't.”

He stops walking and looks at her with all the contempt he can.

“Okay, let's put it like this: you have a sudden revelation and want to become a priest, you go to Quinn to wrangle your religious dilemmas. You really like a boy who's dating someone else, you come to me to have a good cry.”

“I'm not gonna cry.”

“At least tell me the gossip. I'm already keeping your ass in the closet, I can make space for some dirty laundry.”

Sebastian tries his best not to smile.

“He told me that I had to get away before something happened that he clearly didn't want to happen, and I stayed.”

“Mh.” She says shimming her hips, round cheeks. “How long was he keeping himself form doing the thing?”

“I-” He drops his gaze. “He almost kissed me, back in like, October? I think Quinn had just dyed her hair back.”

It feels like five minutes ago.

“Then I think it was a good call to stay.”

Sebastian stares, brain dead.

“Sometimes you run away from something for so long because you don't want to hurt someone, that it just ends up hurting many more people in the long run.”

Quinn told him once that it was just a matter of time before they gave in and became friends, because they're so similar, but the truth is that Santana has something he doesn't, and that makes all the difference. She's got heart. Sebastian is all head, for better or worse, and there's things all the thinking in the word can't sort out.

“Thank you.” He says, and she shrugs.

“You would have been an awesome beard if you were around last year.”

“I would have still faked dated Quinn.”

She opens her arms, and they start walking again.

“Why? I would have even slept with you in the name of friendship.”

“Why would I want that?”

“Curiosity? Boredom? Hormones?”

“Do you ever run an impulse through your brain, or-?”

“Not really. Wouldn't want to wear the baby out before I actually need it. One day I'm gonna have to figure out how to pay taxes, you know.”

“Smart. I guess you'd like to avoid going to jail. Family reunions can be a pain.”

“Maybe I wouldn't have wanted to fake date you, after all. You seem like a bad influence.”

“I ought to be, since you're a good one.”

“Aw, you like me.”

“That's why I don't like girls, you talk to them twice and they get attached.”

.

Quinn has extra cheer leading practices, so he asks Puckerman to drive him home after basketball.

“I'm gay.” He says after ignoring the better part of what Puck has been rambling about.

“Dammit,” he says, “I've given Quinn crap for breaking up with you. Gave her a whole speech.”

“I'm sure she appreciated it.” He shrugs, “She feels a little left behind, sometimes.”

“Yeah, she does.”

Sebastian sings along to the rock music for a second.

“Is it like, a secret?”

“What?”

“That you're a homo.”

“Oh, that. No.”

Some more music.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Is it gay if-”

“Yes. The answer to that question is always yes.”

“Anderson said-”

“Anderson,” he says, “only said it so that he can pretend it's not straight if he thinks about having sex with Rachel Berry every time they sing a song together.”

“Rachel's hot, dude.”

“I'm sure she is.”

.

He's gonna sue the school.

He'd call his dad right away but he can't fucking see.

He's gonna kill Puckerman for sure. There has to be a difference between something being a secret and the whole school knowing it by the end of the week.

“Now you know how important your opinion on dick is at McKinley High,” Santana sing-songs because she's a bitch. “Welcome to the club, baby.”

“What are you doing in the men's bathroom?”

“Taking a piss. The queue for the girls' is so long that I'd grow an indoor pool.”

“Ew.” He says, and bends to wash his face some more.

When he looks up he can see Blaine in the mirror, if he squints through the sugar.

“Hi,” he says. He's got a red towel in his hand. “Quinn sends you this-” he says rising it up, “Cheerios issued. I think it's something percent silk.”

“You've never got slushied.” He says, turning to accept it. “Why have you never got slushied? You're dating Kurt Hummel.”

“Was.” Blaine says, and Sebastian stands very still.

Blaine leans around him to wet the towel. Sebastian closes his eyes when Blaine presses the soft fabric to his temple.

“And I don't go around telling jocks that if they're obviously so sad I don't want to suck their dicks, maybe they should take the Am I Gay? online quiz instead of- how was it?”

“Sublimating their attraction with violence.”

“You see my point.” Blaine says, and Sebastian leans back on the sink so it's easier for Blaine to wash the ice over.

“Okay so maybe I run my mouth too much. Never had to worry about that before.”

“Yeah.” Blaine hums, running the water again to wet the towel some more.

The silence is heavier that it should be.

“I'm sorry about what happened to you. Whatever it was.”

“Thank you. Just do me a favor and be careful. Before it gets worse than a slushie.”

“It's so sticky.” He whines, putting the back of his hand, still rather blue, on the side of Blaine's face.

“Hey,” he laughs, and Sebastian thinks about it long enough that it can't really be called pulling a Santana, but he leans in to kiss him.

Blaine doesn't kiss him back, but he doesn't pull away either.

“You know,” he says, scooping a little bit of slushie that pooled over Sebastian's collarbone. “I kind of want to go to Sugar's party, but I've been told single people aren't allowed.”

Sebastian isn't really familiar with how tight his smile is pulling at his cheek.

“It isn't a date.” Blaine says, “I just want to go to the party, and I know you're really good at fake dating people.”

“Okay.” His smile is bordering on uncomfortable.

“Good.”

Then Blaine puts his slushie covered fingers his mouth, because that's a thing you do.

“Stop wasting water,” Santana says coming out of a stool and walking up to the sink. “There are dehydrated dolphins all over the ZOOs in California.”

She washes her hands, leave the tap open, and bounces out.

“What was she doing in here?” Blaine asks.

“She doesn't like indoor pools.”

Blaine squints at him and he laughs.

“You don't want to know why it makes sense.”

.

He gets a (fake) kiss when they make it back from Sugar's party.

“You taste sweet.” Blaine tells him.

“Cotton-candy?” Sebastian asks.

“Yeah,” Blaine licks his lips.

“It's the gum.”

“I figured.”

“You don't like it?” he asks because he's fishing for compliments.

“No, I do. You just don't look like you should taste like cotton-candy.”

“What does it look like I should taste like?”

Blaine licks Sebastian's lips, a hand on his jaw. Then he does it again. Then he slips his tongue in his mouth, and Sebastian's brain slowly starts catching up.

“Like those hard candies with the fizzy center, I think.”

Sebastian doesn't give a fuck about what Blaine should taste like as long as keep kissing him, but he's too smitten to tell him.


	14. 3x14 - On My Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aaaaand regionals are gone, too!  
> hope you enjoyed the madness of this middle batch. see you soon for the last part ❤  
> if you want to leave a comment, that's always appreciated. i even ramble back! (which. maybe a deterrent but.)

“I can't wait for them to graduate.” He says, sprawled in his chair.

Blaine scratches at his nape. Tina throws her head back in a silent cry. Artie makes a wave with his hand.

Santana screams in spanglish down on the floor.

“I only wish you'd go with them.” He tells Artie. “There are truly dreams that cannot be.”

“You know, I'm curious. Why do you have it out for me?” Artie asks.

Sebastian is ready for a more generic version of the truth when he realizes he doesn't have to do that.

“You told Blaine he wasn't sexy enough. I think that disqualifies you for having an opinion, ever.”

“Don't drag me into this.” Blaine says.

Mercedes shouts an _hell to the no_ that hits in the chest.

“I was merely talking from the perspective of a straight man.”

“You almost didn't give Rachel Maria because she sang I Feel Pretty too well.” Sebastian sneers.

“As a straight man,” Puckerman cuts in, “I think Anderson's hot.”

“I said don't drag me into this. But thanks, Noah.”

Rachel talks really fast really loud and Sebastian's doesn't hear a word of it.

“I think she's right.” He says out loud.

“Why.” Tina cries when Santana and Mercedes turn to shout at him.

“You do realize the judges change every time, right?” He says. “Giving your strongest performer the spotlight every competition isn't favoritism. It's just smart.”

“Thank you! Do they have to come from France to make sense?” Rachel yells.

“At least we all know who's gonna be lead soloist next year.” Sam says.

Artie: “I'll gladly step up.” Tina: “Finally, my turn!” Blaine: “Thank you, Sam.”

He smiles to Blaine, who's stopped moving his feet up and down.

Sam swallows under the stares.

Mr. Schue claps his hands to no avail.

“I meant Blaine.” Sam cracks soon.

“He just got here!” Tina says, “I've been here all three years!”

“You know what,” Sebastian smiles. “I think you're right. It's about time they give you some recognition.”

He kicks a chair down. They all turn to him.

“Tina was just saying she could sing that song better than you.”

“Tina!” the three fates shouts against the common enemy, and Tina breaks down.

The _a_ sound in her “God, why” lasts a fair bit.

Blaine pushes his shoulder. Sebastian catches his hand and Blaine doesn't ask for it back.

.

They get the news about this Karofsky guy from Santana, when they're back from an AP Music Theory field trip.

They flock together, the tree of them, trying to avoid the stares and the extra care people put in talking to them. Rick the Stick even leaves him alone when Sebastian insults him just to take off an edge.

.

No matter how much he thinks about what Kurt dared to say to Quinn (which he has been too stunned to even reply to, because where do you begin when someone has his head stuck so far up his own ass?), he can't figure out why you would want to end the show when you've been barely rehearsing it.

He sits on the edge of the stage to try and find a string to pull that will unravel it.

“I just don't get it.” He says when Blaine finds him. “Not because of-” careless words. He bites his nails enough that he can taste the faintest trace of metal.

Blaine sighs, and Sebastian knows he's trying to think of a way to make it make sense for him.

“The confidence you have in yourself, Sebastian, it's not something most people have. You don't care about what people say to you, because you know when they're wrong, and you know when they're right. Anything they can tell you that would hurt you, you already told yourself. You'll always have someone to go to when you fall, and that's you. But that kind of confidence, Sebastian, it isn't- it's a gift, really.”

“One that I like to use very poorly.”

Blaine sits down next to him, takes his hand away from his mouth. Sebastian just bites at the nails of his left hand instead.

“Give yourself some time. It's just like singing. You're good at it, you do it for fun, and then, if you care, you start learning how to use your voice properly. What you want to do with it. You're gonna get around to it.”

Sebastian just stares at him.

“I care what you think about me.” He says. “And I'm not sure I like it.”

Blaine bumps their knees together.

“I think,” he says, “that you get scared of what I think about you, when you think you've done something questionable already.”

“I blew a guy for money once. He mistook me for an alley boy, my credit card was getting rejected, and I thought, why not.”

Blaine looks at him. Sebastian is aware it sounded like a non-sequitor, but Blaine outburst at Sam has been hanging around in his memory since he's witnessed it.

“You did what?”

“Easy on the judging, small city boy. The dude was hot. I'm pretty sure he got a knife on him, and he was probably a serial killer, but I got enough money for a taxi, and a drink.”

Blaine just keeps looking at him.

“There's a reason I don't get drunk anymore. It messes with brain. And if I can't think, I'm useless at best, dangerous for my survival at worst.”

“I'm afraid to ask,” Blaine says, “What else did you do when you were drunk?”

“Most notably, I fucked my mother's boyfriend.”

“Sebastian.”

He's mildly scared Blaine will walk out on him.

“Yes?”

Blaine puts a hand behind his neck.

“I'm saying it for you: don't go back to Paris.”

He laughs and shakes Blaine off.

“Maybe I'll bring you with me. So I won't have to blow a stranger if I don't have enough money to make it home.”

Blaine's smile get just a bit flirty.

“I'll make sure to keep cash on me, then.”

Sebastian still doesn't think he used to be miserable before moving, but sure he wasn't happy.

.

They win. Somehow, it seems more important than it really is.

Like this was their last chance, and they made it count.

.

“Can I sext Berry?” Sebastian asks Quinn, who gives him a sour look.

“Why would you?”

“I'm sexually frustrated because Anderson is a tease and really bored of this country roads.”

“So?”

“So Santana said that I should save my brain for when I'll need it.”

Quinn is still looking at him.

“I know it's a terrible idea, but if I do it in a relatively safe environment, maybe I'll save enough for a future emergency.”

“You can sext that guy from AP Math. But I will eventually tell you it was you, to send him in a frenzy.”

“I'm not sure that's not a punishable sexual offense. Either way, I don't sext ugly people.”

“Shouldn't sexting be the last context in which appearance should matter?”

“Ugly people send ugly texts.”

Quinn sigh is very breathy.

“Tell Rachel we're on our way.”

“Why are you so against this marriage? They can always get a divorce later.”

“Why are you not against it?”

“Because as far as I'm concerned, everyone can fuck up their lives the way of their choosing.”

“I love both of them.” She says, blinking rapidly, “and I think that they could be happy if they would just wait for the right moment. I don't want them to ruin everything because” she looks at him with a raised eyebrow “they saved their brains for later.”

“I don't think there's much brain to save for Hudson. And Rachel may be a tad deranged, but she always gives her all. She won't stay in a relationship, even a marriage, if it isn't good for her. I think.”

“You always do that.” Quinn smiles. “Give advice and say _I think_ at the end, like an afterthought.”

“I'm just aware no matter how much sense I make, I have like, no credibility. I mean, I fucked up so much that I got exiled to Lima, Ohio.”

Quinn hums and smiles at him.

“Don't take this the wrong way, I wouldn't wish this town on anybody, but I'm very happy you named that car Grizabella.”

He laughs and slides the seat all the way back to get his feet on the desk.

He doesn't have the time to.

.

When Blaine gets there he's at the vending machine getting four bars of snickers.

“Hey,” he says running up to him, and Sebastian stops him with his uninjured arm.

“Cracked ribs. No hugging.”

“Are you okay?”

“I'm dandy.”

“Should you be on your feet?”

“Yeah. I'm fine.”

“How's Quinn?”

“She'll live.”

“I-”

“Her spine got compressed. They still don't know if she'll walk again, it's too early.”

“Sebastian-” he says, touching his elbow, and Sebastian swallows, still pressing on the same button even if he's out of credit.

“She doesn't deserve it.” He says. “She's doing good. She's off to Yale. She was- she was going to be dad's first dance at the wedding.”

Blaine takes his hand and brings his head down, and Sebastian breaths shallow breaths, their forehead touching.

“She still will, Sebastian. She'll go to Yale, and she'll dance with your dad, no matter what.”

He nods, and he doesn't say it, that the worst part is that he's there buying snacks with only a broken arm and a mild concussion, while Quinn is still sleeping off the anesthesia.

**Author's Note:**

> it's a game, really: anything sebastian touches changes for the (very subjective to my persona) better  
> also this is, for all intent and purposes, glee. two locations, fast dialogue, dubious introspection. what i do best, overall.


End file.
